The Graceful Swan
by Lavenderecho
Summary: A freak accident leaves rising gymnastics star Emma Swan crippled and broken. When the man responsible for crushing her dreams appears to her, can she find it in her heart to forgive him?
1. Guilt

Emma Swan was always destined to be the greatest gymnast the world had ever seen. She had the complete package. Grace, flexibility, beauty, strength, balance, and determination. Already competing at the national level at the mere age of fifteen, she captured the hearts of those watching as well as those of the judges. She swept the competition, taking first in all the events she participated other than floor exercise. She took home bronze in that. Overnight, she became the girl from the small town to the nation's sweetheart. The graceful swan. That's what everyone called her. Everyone said she would go very far indeed.

And she might've, if it weren't for that fateful night.

She was performing at a charity performance on the uneven bars. No one knows what happened, but as she prepared to do one of the maneuvers, a triple back flip, the bar came clean off. The audience watched as their "swan" catapulted through the air from her momentum and crashed onto the floor. If only she had wings like a swan, then her screams of agony wouldn't have echoed through the room, her leg twisted at a most awkward angle as first aid providers swarmed around her. Some people blamed the attendants who had set up the uneven bars. Upon further investigation, there was evidence that the bars had been tampered with right before Emma Swan performed.

She was rushed to the hospital where it was determined that her left leg was broken in two places. There was possible additional damage to her nerves as well. While the break healed decently, the damaged nerves did not ever fully heal. A silence fell over the country's gymnastic fanatics. Everyone prayed for her return. She never did, and soon. People forgot about her as another fresh face found her way into the spotlight. Emma Swan became just another piece of gymnastic history.

_Eight Years Later__…_

He hears the pounding on his door but he doesn't stand up. His head feels like it's about to split open. He groans out, "Go away!" The knocking persists. _Damn_. Whichever idiot was outside needed to stop being so loud. He clutches a flask in his left hand and stumbles to the door, only tripping over a trashcan on the way there. It's an improvement from last time when he knocked over his bookshelf. Flimsy, useless piece of thing. He flings it open and snarls, "What the hell do you want?" The alcohol is obvious in his breath. Sour and sweet at the same time. Rum.

His brother is standing there, a newspaper clutched in his hands. On the front page is a picture of a girl. She looks familiar. He lifts an eyebrow as his brother shakes the paper, "Look! Look at this! It's her Killian!"

"You'll have to be more specific Liam. This isn't one of my romantic conquests is it? Is she on the front page because she tried to murder me? I wouldn't be surprised. Most women don't take my leaving very well."

Liam rolls his eyes, "No you idiot. Look." He moves his hands away from the title, _The graceful swan returns. Are her broken wings finally healed? _And it hits him in the head. It's her all right. Emma Swan. The gymnast. Who fell. Who never got back up again. Until now apparently. He snatches the paper away and skims through it.

He speaks conversationally, "Well. It seems like she got the gold medal on the balance beams and…" his voice breaks a bit, "The uneven bars." His eyes darken as he remembers that day. The day he never forgave himself for.

Their father was one of the judges at the event. Even though it was a charity event, there was still a bit of competition going on. Liam had whispered in his ear, "Hey, I wonder what would happen if we just loosen the bolts a little! Come on Killian, I dare you!" He had protested at first, but then Liam persisted, "Ah come on Killy. Don't be such a wuss. There are mats for a reason." So he had done it. He had loosened the screws on the uneven bars. What Liam said made sense. There were mats all over the floor. Whoever fell wouldn't get hurt much. It was just for laughs.

Then he watched as that girl went on. Like the rest of the audience, he was spellbound by her fluid moments and twists, the strength in her body as she pulled herself up over the bar and flipped herself over. She was a sight to watch. He forgot what he had done until she was crashing to the floor, no mat under her to cushion her fall. He will never forget those screams. The way her bone was sticking out of her leg. And her tears. She was not crying because of the pain, she was crying because she knew she just lost the greatest opportunity of her life.

He swallows hard as the guilt starts building again. Just when he had started to forgive himself. He remembers her bright smile that night before she swung herself onto the bars. The way she approached them with a little bounce to her step. He looks back on the front page where there is a photo of her. She's older now obviously. Her green eyes do not glitter with a childlike innocence anymore. They are hardened, sad, but the same determination is there. Her golden locks are a shade darker than they were before. And although it's only been eight years, it seems like she's gained twenty.

He chokes out, "I want to apologize for what I did to her."

Liam gaps at him, "Are you daft? If she tells anyone we'll end up in jail."

Killian shakes his head, "I have to. We did this to her. We took away the biggest chance of her life." He points at the article, "Look. She'll be competing this weekend. It's just two hours away. We'll go in, find her, apologize, and then leave."

Liam mutters, "If she doesn't call the police. Fine, I'll come with you." He sounds indifferent, but his eyes are glazed with the same guilt that Killian feels. One he will hopefully be able to let go once he faces Emma Swan.


	2. Crippled

_~Emma Swan~_

As the music swells, her green eyes narrows in concentration. She takes a deep breath, this is the big moment. The one she's never been able to stick. She starts sprinting before she loses the nerve, jumps, twists twice through the air, and somersaults forward once. Or she tries to. Before she finishes the somersault, her feet finds ground and slide out from under her. Her head slams against the floor. She's grateful for the mat, but it still hurts like hell. Her ears are ringing and her head is throbbing.

The melody finishes with a flourish. It taunts her. Because landing on your ass is not a flourish at all. It's a failure. It's like the songs that just die out towards the end. She stays on the ground, staring up at the gym lights. They flicker. She sighs, maybe her coach had been right. She really couldn't bounce back from that injury. Her legs lack the strength they used to possess, she couldn't get enough air time now to complete her sequences.

Her leg never fully healed after that accident. It is still weak, it buckles on occasion, and sometimes a crippling pain would cause her to fall on the ground, squeezing back tears of tortured agony. Her coach had finally told her to leave the class, saying that he would no longer teach her. That she should give up.

She couldn't though, this was what she spent her entire life training for. Every single day after school, from the time she was seven. So even though her head is pounding and her left leg is starting to prickle, she ignores the signs. She stands up and walks over to the CD player- she's not limping, of course she isn't, not limping at all- and hits rewind. Then play. She tries again.

_~Killian Jones~_

He hears the eerie music coming from behind one of the closed doors. It is beautiful and haunting. Inside the room, the lights are dim, there is a blue mat on the floor. A girl is leaping and bounding over the mattress, dainty and graceful. She is wearing a red sports bra paired with a pair of black shorts. She pirouettes, then goes straight into a forward layout. Her right foot steps forward as her spine curves over, followed by her left leg, then finally her head. Blonde hair is tied into a bun, stray strands escaping the hair tie, sticking to her flushed and sweaty face.

That's her all right. It's Emma Swan. She seems to be concentrating though, so he can't find it in himself to interrupt her. She's just like he remembered. She's older now and has lost that teenagery appearance, but her movement is the same. Killian recognizes her in the way she steps over the mat, the briefest hesitation before each run, and the way she bites at her lower lip upon completing each tumbling pass as if she were trying to keep back a triumphant smile.

He stays hidden in the shadows, watching silently, feeling almost as breathless as she looks. He has to resist gasping when she twists through the air and cheering when she sticks the landing. She seems to be doing great. Except on the last one. She doesn't get nearly as much air with this one as her previous tumbles (maybe it's just tiredness), but he has to resist rushing out when her head hits the ground with a sickening thud.

He knows that popping out of thin air will probably cause her to freak out, or get angry at him for spying on her. So he cranes his neck slightly, sighing in relief as she clambers back to her feet. His eyes narrow when she starts the music over again, surely she shouldn't be trying again this soon! She had to rest and take a break. Who was he to say anything though?

_~Emma Swan~_

She's about to go into the splits when she realizes she's no longer alone. She stops halfway down unintentionally, and wobbles as her balance goes completely awry. She falls on her side, managing to make it look slightly graceful. She doesn't flail her arms around, no sound of shock escapes her lips. She stands up and turns off the music. Then goes towards her bag at the edge of the mat. She tries not to limp, she really does. But it's so damn hard. She manages to make it, grabbing her water bottle, drinking deeply, draining half the bottle.

She puts her stuff away, grabbing her CD player and swinging the bag over her shoulders. It takes all her self control not to hobble past him, her teeth gritted. She bites her tongue to keep back a groan of pain. She could feel it starting. The beginnings of a full on attack. It starts in her thigh, a flame that will roll down her leg, eventually consuming all of her flesh. And then she won't be able to run or hide. Won't be able to keep the fact that she's actually broken from this stranger.

She feels a hand wrap around her wrist, "Wait. I need to talk to you." His ice blue eyes seem to pierce her soul.

She tugs desperately at her arm, trying to break free from both his grip and his gaze as she gasps out, "Not… not now. I have to go get ready. The competition is starting in a few hours. Relaxation exercises before I go on." _Shit. _She couldn't wait much longer. When he releases her, she tries her hardest not to hobble as she exits the room. Once she's sure he can no longer see her, she bolts. Half running half limping down the hallway and into a changing room.

_~Killian Jones~ _

He feels this is as good of a time as any to tell her what he did to her. So his fingers find her wrist and he pleads, "Wait. I need to talk to you." It seems like she desires to get away from him with every fiber in her being. For a second, fear crashes over him. Maybe she knew who he was. What he did to her. She gives a reason for her hasty departure, but to him, it seems more like an excuse.

Her teeth are gritted, her hands clenched into fists. Almost like it's taking all of her self control not to punch him in the face. He wishes she just did it, just took a swing at his jaw with all the strength she could muster, then he wouldn't have to live with this guilt. Then he could just get it over with. Apologize. Beg for her forgiveness. Go home. That didn't happen, so he has to wait until the end of the competition, which was hours away. He sighed, this was going to be a long day.


End file.
